


alone

by ghostbustersVHS



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Suicide, Recovery, Relationship(s), brief mentions of self harm, mentions of alcoholism and addiction, mentions of grief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 12:35:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 10,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10662723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostbustersVHS/pseuds/ghostbustersVHS
Summary: Daniel was alone.Christopher was alone.PJ was alone.Philip was nothing.





	1. a footprint, a fly, and a kite

**Author's Note:**

> (in no way am I trying to romanticise mental illness, grief or addiction but I am trying to romanticise recovery)  
> (this book starts out sad and is based on some very sad topics so if you're super sad and don't wanna get more sad don't read this)  
> (I warned you)
> 
> this has been reuploaded from wattpad by the author, read the original here. Follow me on wattpad here to read the rest of my fics that aren't on here.

_Daniel never had the luxury of saying goodbye._  
 _It was so sudden, gone in a moment._  
 _Like a match blown out by the wind or a violent crack of thunder._  
 _A life, a death, before he could even blink._  
 _He was left, like a footprint in the dirt, soon to be forgotten._  
He was alone.

_Christopher never had the luxury of self worth._  
 _He thought of himself as he thought of the dirt on the ground or the nasty flies in the air._  
 _He longed for friendship stronger than he had, he longed for people to think of him better than they did, he longed for attention._  
 _Longing is a difficult thing._  
 _So he got caught in it, the never ending spiral._  
 _The darkness consumed him all too quickly, but he wasn't gone._  
 _He wasn't gone but_  
He was alone.

_PJ never had the luxury of self control._  
 _He let himself go._  
 _Like a kite on a windy day._  
 _Quickly being pushed further and further away from his origin._  
 _He sat in solitude in his bedroom, drowning his feelings in bitter tasting drink._  
 _There was a girl there too but_  
He was still alone.

_Philip was the only one who was not alone._   
_Unfortunately, he wasn't anything anymore._

_But maybe all of the 3 remaining boys could be connected somehow._   
_And through their shared grief, love and fear, they could make it through._

_Just maybe._


	2. i

**Daniel** sat in the park, his music blasting from his headphones. He had a dark look on his face and his eyes were unfocused and blank.  
He really didn't know how long it had been exactly since it had happened, since then everything had just gone by in a slow, depressed blur. He knew it was something around a month.  
A zealous boy sat on the bench next to him, a toy in his hands.  
Daniel thought about the boy. His blond hair was short and he wore a green shirt, dirtied by the mud he had been playing in. The boy seemed happy. Daniel was jealous of the air of innocence the boy had about him.  
That boy had never experienced the horrors that Daniel had to.

 **Christopher** sat, curled up in an uncomfortable position in the corner of his bathtub. He stared down at his knees, held tight to his chest, but stopped every once and a while to glance out the window above him. Outside, the sun was setting with a deep red colour.  
Red, he had been seeing that colour a lot lately: red as in the colour of the inside of his eyelids and red as in blood.  
Those were the two things he saw most of now, except the stained tiles of his bathroom and occasionally the view out of his window.  
He couldn't remember the last time he walked out of his door, maybe a week ago when he was having a good day.  
He needed to leave this room, get out more. He needed to do a lot of things that felt like they were never going to be done.

 **PJ** opened his eyes and rubbed them. His bed was uncomfortable and his soiled sheets had slowly began untucking themselves from beneath the mattress.  
He could barely see, there was no light in his room except the lamp by his bedside he had left on accidentally.  
He heard footsteps in the corridor outside his room but they were quickly overridden by a shrill ringing sound coming from his left ear.  
"Ow," he said, almost silently, as he attempted to block the noise by putting his hands on his ears.  
His head hurt badly, again.  
So he did what he had been doing for a while now: he felt around in the mid darkness for the familiar touch of a cold glass bottle, lifted it to his lips and drank.  
He knew it would be worse later but he didn't care about later. He cared about right now, and right now his head hurt like shit.  
His vision faded out into a deep green colour and he was asleep again.


	3. ii

**Daniel** woke up the next morning with tears welling in his eyes. His dreams, yet again, hadn't been dreams, they had been nightmares.  
Since it had happened, he'd been having nothing but nightmares. About different things: ghosts of dead friends and family, murderers, his own death and strange flashes of his old friends. He'd remembered seeing Chris - red - and PJ - green.  
He sometimes wondered how those two were doing, but not often. His mind was so clouded with thoughts in light of the current events. But, you can't simply forget about your two best friends of 4 years.  
Or would you call them ex best friends?  
There was no falling out or fighting between the group, so much had happened that they had just drifted apart. One of the four was gone, though, and that's enough to pull them all out of the friendship.

 **Christopher** was startled awake by a clatter coming from outside. His dreams hadn't been peaceful either, he had dreamt about his long gone friend.  
Even though he had been out of the loop since he had been sucked in the black hole of his bathroom, he had somehow learned about Phil's disappearance. Maybe someone had come to visit him, he couldn't remember.  
He didn't mourn much, mainly inside his head; he thought it over. He didn't even cry.  
Maybe he saw it coming? He had noticed the change in his friend's behaviour.  
Or maybe he was just so used to pain and so tired that it seemed like nothing to him.

 **PJ** didn't really wake up, just floated in and out of consciousness as his alarm clock made noises he wasn't bothered to turn off.  
He heard the minimal noise of someone opening the door as quietly as they could, the silent patter of dainty footsteps making their way to his bedside and the click of the alarm clock as it turned off.  
The person who had come in made a sharp inhale and moved their feet slightly. Two or three empty bottles were picked up and taken out of the door, which was then closed almost silently.  
He did not think about the colour red or the colour blue, he did not think about his old friends or how they must be feeling, he did not think about Phil, for he did not know.


	4. iii

**Daniel** made himself a small sandwich and went back to sitting in his bed. He felt tired to the extent that he didn't feel like going out.  
As he sat in the bed, he looked over to the other side of it where the sheets were clean, crisp and unruffled, the pillows still blue and untouched. He hadn't gone anywhere near that side of the bed since the person who slept there stopped sleeping.  
That was one of the only things he had left of Phil, that and the reoccurring nightmares of blue eyes and black hair. Also, of course, all of Phil's old clothes, some of which were worn by Dan since the incident happened - to try and preserve his presence in the house - and some of which were left in their drawers, unwanted and unused.  
A singular cold, salty tear trickled down his cheek and he swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing up and down.  
He longed for things to be as they had been, he longed to whisper those three sweet words to his boyfriend again.  
_I love you._

 **Christopher** 's mouth was dry, same as his throat. He hadn't drunk in probably a week. His clothes were dirty, littered with red stains from when he was sloppy and wet marks from his sweat or tears or spit - he no longer could tell which one.  
He needed to stand up, he needed to eat something, he needed to breathe in clear air.  
His arms moved from around his knees and his legs stretched out, ever so slowly.  
It felt like he was a corpse, slowly brushing off cobwebs and dust he had collected. Each bone of his stretching out in a way they hadn't seemed to do in years.  
He moved his neck and a sharp cracking sound filled the room, the first sound in a while except for his quiet sobs.  
He bent his knees, getting closer and closer to standing up, to reaching where he hadn't for so long. It was like he was reaching for the sky, an almost impossible goal that somehow seemed tangible.  
He made it, he stood up and stepped out of the horridly stained bathtub with only a slight head rush to keep him from feeling like this was the best sensation he'd ever felt.  
He turned and stared at himself in the bathroom mirror.  
His face seemed inhuman, dirty and creased.  
'What happened,' he mouthed to the person on the other side of the glass, questioning this strange boy he didn't recognise.

 **PJ** finally became fully conscious much later than he should have. He opened his eyes one at a time and the loud ringing sound came back to his ears - a little good morning present from his head.  
He wanted to reach for a bottle of some kind, but as he was doing so the door was opened.  
'PJ,' a voice whispered into the mid-darkness of the room, partially drowned out by the shrill sounds in his head. The voice belonged to a blonde girl standing in the door frame. She wore a pair of leggings and a tight shirt, her nails were painted green.  
She rang a bell in the back of his mind, but he wasn't able to remember her well. She had been here before, a couple days ago when she last checked up on him; she had persisted in calling him _sweetie_ and _babe_. She kept repeating to him that he needed to go outside, but he didn't really care.  
'Morning sunshine,' the girl said, tiptoeing over to his bed, 'it's time for you to get up, we're going out today.'  
All he could do is reply with a grunt and a long, low groan as she opened the curtains, letting all the bright light from the midday sun into his eyes.


	5. iv

**Daniel** stayed in his bed all day, soft tears running down his cheeks as he recollected every memory he had of the lost boy. He held his pillow in his arms as if grasping onto Phil or, more likely, the memory of Phil.  
He had cried so much, he thought as though he would never be able to cry again.  
His sandwich lay abandoned on his bedside table, along with a pack of tissues which were slowly run through as the day carried on.  
He didn't think that he would ever spend most of a day sprawled out on a bed in pure sorrow, but he did.  
And the image that stuck itself in his brain, like a broken record repeatedly playing the same set of notes, was _blue, blue, blue._  
Blue sighs, blue eyes, blue skies.  
Blue streets, blue sheets, blue weeks.

 **Christopher** walked around the house for a while, feeling overly free and whimsical.  
It was a strange feeling, being mobile after weeks of being completely immobile.  
As he took his third lap around the living room, his eyes rested on a canvas laid next to his sofa.  
He'd forgotten completely about his art, it had been his way of escape before he'd confined himself to the stained bathroom of his. If anything, not making art was what put him in that room.  
The painting was propped up against the seat, quiet and undisturbed. It was inanimate, unknowing of his pain or his longing for things to be as they were.  
Washed out brush strokes littered the canvas, purple and blue and green and yellow, blended together by drips and leaks of the watercolour.  
Chris mustered enough power to display the closest thing to a smile he could get on his face.  
Faster than he had done anything in a long time, he grabbed his paints and a piece of paper from the desk and knelt down on the floor.  
He painted the scene that seemed most vivid in his mind at that moment - a sunset through a tiny window. The beauty and lusciousness of the crimson light filling the page but partially cut off with the stark white window frame.  
He painted _red._ He painted it in all its pain and beauty and anger and passion.

 **PJ** half got up, half rolled out of his bed, landing face first on the deep green carpet, thankful he hadn't landed on a bottle or something equally as hard and painful.  
'I set some clothes out for you,' said the girl as she scampered off into the corridor to go do something else.  
He had decided he didn't like the sound of her voice. Or the way she walked. Or anything about her, really.  
She was too energetic, her tone was high pitched and her hair was unnaturally bright.  
He took the clothes, though, and despite his pulsing headache got dressed and attempted to tame his hair.  
The girl popped her head through the door frame and said something PJ didn't even bother to decode. Something about leaving, soon.  
And sure enough, the two were soon walking out of the door at an aggravatingly fast pace while the girl continued to babble on about the errands they were to do on their journey outside.  
He squinted at the unusual light his eyes were being exposed to, not used to the brightness of the sun, and the distinct crunch of their feet on the gravel of the driveway caused his ears to ring excessively.  
All in all, PJ wasn't all too excited to be outside, but he was reasonably contented by the beauty he had been missing while being cooped up inside his bedroom.  
The trees and grass were lush and healthy and the flowers dotted around the yards of neighbours and in the parks were certainly handsome. Green was everywhere, but that was just the nature of late spring.  
Spring was a time of rebirth, new animals were born and the leaves shed over the winter come back again.  
He smiled - a kind of crazy, slightly malevolent smile which you only tend to see on madmen. _Somehow_ , he thought, _this spring may also be a time for rebirth in me. I could be a new person by the time summer comes around. I could have new friends, a girlfriend or maybe a boyfriend? Maybe I'll find out who this bloody person is that keeps following me around. Let's just hope both she and this shitting headache goes away soon enough._  
And with that, he laughed heartily to himself, earning a confused side look from his companion.


	6. v

**Daniel** slept well and hard, waking up the next day with a sense of longing to do something different.  
He was so tired of being in his bed, in his room, surrounded by all the memories he didn't want to remember.  
A thought made its way into his head and he accepted it. He was going to do something he hadn't done in years.  
He turned his phone on which had been off for probably over a month. He let all the notifications from texts and calls come in before searching the trains schedule.  
There was one at 2:36, he had to start packing now.  
So, Daniel packed and wheeled his suitcase out of the door of his apartment.  
He made it to the tracks and decided to return a phone call to the number who had called him over 50 times and attempted to text him even more.  
He pressed the screen, sighing slightly, and raised the phone to his ear.  
All at once, the phone was answered by a woman with a soft, warm voice.  
'Daniel, is it really you?'  
'It is, mum. I'm so sorry about everything. I'm coming home, I'm going to stay with you for a couple days if that's ok. I need to get my story straight.'  
A quiet sniffle was heard and then the woman composed herself. 'That would be- wonderful,' she said with a tone of genuine happiness and excitement. 'I can't wait to see you, I've been so worried about you, Dan.'

 **Christopher** painted his heart out over the evening and night following the red painting, stopping only when he was too tired to continue. He slept beside his finished art, among their happy colours and shapes.  
He woke to the sun shining through the window and straight onto his face and smiled.  
After much deliberation, he decided to go outside of his apartment, making sure to put on nicer clothes and brush his hair. He didn't want to go back into the bathroom to shower, he was afraid he'd get stuck in there again.  
He opened the creaky door to the view of the cream coloured hallway, a gateway to a different land not visited in a while.  
He wandered down the spiralling steps slightly mis-coordinately, his vision marginally blurry from lack of sleep.  
He reached the final door, opened it and was pleasantly greeted by the scene of the rest of London milling about their daily business. The whole view before him worked like clockwork: two girls walked into a coffee shop; a man in a suit and tie came out; a young boy skipped along the pavement, pulling his mother down the path; a girl and a boy walked the other way holding bags of books, smiling; another girl walked out of the supermarket, pulling a tall boy out of the shop. The boy had messy hair that was vaguely recognisable to Chris and pulled his feet along the ground reluctantly and drowsily.  
He brushed that aside, making his way down the stairs to join level with the pavement.  
Chris just wandered around the streets for a bit, admiring the people who went past absentmindedly. The boy with messy hair was long gone when he all of a sudden remembered how much he really recognised that face.

 **PJ** was being hauled all over the streets of the city, pushed into shops and out of them in his disoriented state. The girl bought a seemingly infinite amount of plastic bags filled with clothes, food and other things he didn't recognise.  
His whole day flew by, a rush of cashiers and bleeping sounds, the only difference that it has to the day before was his head. After not drinking for a day or so, the headaches subsided and he could think clearly and see everything sharper.  
He now noticed the girl he was with in better clarity and could see the distinct orange-ness of her makeup and the way her eyelashes stuck together with mascara.  
He made a mental note to sneak some more vodka into his room that night so he didn't have to look at her properly the next day.


	7. vi

**Daniel** arrived at his childhood home before sunset and was pleasantly greeted with a warm welcome from his mother.  
The door was painted a pale blue, the same colour it had been for all of his life. The paint cracked slightly as he turned the knob to open it. As soon as he stepped foot inside, a huge wave of memories came back to him as if a flood of happiness was drowning the whole house.  
He had sat on those very chairs while he grew up, watched that very television, played in that very garden and slept in that very bed. The bed that he would be sleeping in again that night, and for however many other nights he decided to stay here.  
He ate dinner with his mum and talked with her throughout the night as the sky went from blue to black and the stars danced across it. He explained everything that had happened since he had last seen her and the two of them shared a multitude of laughs and tears.  
'I understand how you feel, son,' she said, 'it was the same with your father. Terrible to lose someone like that. I wish you'd told me about it sooner.'  
She eventually ushered him up to his room when it got too late, worried about how his sleeping patterns would be affected by this whole ordeal.  
Daniel slept well, dreaming of the house and who he used to be.

 **Christopher** , after spending the day wandering around London aimlessly but happily, slept well surrounded by his art again and awoke in the same way as the day before.  
He repeated the cycle, put on new clothes and messed with his hair, moved some canvases so that they would be slightly more out of the way, only this time he had the image of messy hair and dazed eyes stuck inside his brain.  
It was without doubt that that hair and those eyes belonged to exactly who he thought they did and this entirely confused him.  
Why would PJ be out in the city since he lived further out?  
Has he been around the area a lot lately but Chris didn't see him since he was trapped in his bathroom seeing red?  
Who was that girl?  
Why did he look so tired?  
There were so many questions he had but he attempted to brush them aside and went out to have a coffee, yawning as he walked down the street.  
Once he got his drink, he walked out the door and strolled along until he reached the park. He sat on a bench in a half-asleep daze and listened to the calm buzz of the city around him.

 **PJ** drank himself silly that night, sipping on his bottle until he couldn't think straight or see anything.  
He woke and relapsed into ringing ears and headaches, feelings which seemed strangely normal to him in comparison to his wellness the day before.  
Even though he persisted and mumbled something about feeling ill, the girl forced him out of the house once again.  
'It's good for you to get out,' she said in her whiny voice, 'you'd just sit in your room and rot otherwise.'  
Maybe he would rather rot than listen to her talk all day.  
Once they got to the city, the girl dragged him around some more. PJ couldn't believe she'd been doing this for 3 days straight without him actually dying or something of the like.  
He certainly did feel like dying and, as they wandered down the street and were met by a particularly large group of pedestrians going the other way, a darkness started slowly creeping into his vision.  
Before he knew it, he face was on the coldness of the pavement and slightly hurt from the impact of falling. He didn't register this, though, because he was more than half unconscious.  
After a 'hmph' from the blonde girl with him and a slight tug of his arm from her trying to get him up, she realised this and called for help from a passer by.  
His slightly lifeless and heavy body was carried down the path and onto a seat of some kind and someone unidentifiable felt his pulse.  
He came to eventually, his head lolling from side to side as he squinted his eyes. The girl inspected him and whispered to herself 'water' before skipping off to a fountain in the distance.  
This was when PJ realised where he was, a park filled with trees and plants. It was pretty but slightly overwhelming, so he looked straight ahead of him for something else in the sea of green.  
In front of him was a bench with another hardly recognisable figure sitting on it. At least, until his eyes focused slightly and he became fully aware that the person in front of him was no stranger but someone he knew very well.  
'Chris?'


	8. vii

**Daniel** spent the day strolling around his small childhood village with his mum. He walked up and down the little streets with her, talking about everything and nothing all at once. His mum was amazingly forgiving about everything that had happened. He felt the happiest he had in months.

 **Christopher** , having been startled from his daydream by the boy on the bench in front of him, realised who it was who had just spoken. His eyes widened at the boy who's mouth lay lazily open and who's eyes were glazed over with what he guessed was exhaustion.  
'PJ,' he said, almost in a whisper as if he didn't want anyone to hear, even himself, 'you never called me.'  
PJ sat up straighter and yawned, then looked at Chris straight in the eye. Both of them looked worn down, their hair shaggy and uncut and their faces fatigued.  
The boy in front of him ignored the statement. 'I just passed out,' he said absentmindedly.  
'Oh, are you ok?'  
'I just passed out,' PJ repeated perversely as if he hadn't heard the question.  
The girl who Chris recognised from the day before suddenly appeared by PJ's side, holding a glass of water and a wet paper towel. She put the towel on his face and carefully gavaged him with the water.  
Chris couldn't help but feel red anger build up in his chest.  
Why was this girl following PJ around all the time? Who even was she? Why was she treating him like a child?  
'I just passed out,' PJ said defiantly, looking the girl in the eye. She replied with what can only be described as a high-pitched grunt and then pulled him up out of his bench, leading him towards the exit of the park.

 **PJ** was dragged across the grass and down the street until the two of them eventually found the car. The girl folded him into the passenger seat and drove him away.  
He frowned, upset that he wasn't able to speak to his old friend.  
'Who was that?' the girl interrupted his thoughts.  
PJ grunted quietly.  
'Who was that boy you were talking to, PJ?' Her voice was stern but still obnoxiously high pitched.  
'Some guy,' PJ spoke, 'you wouldn't know him. He goes to another school.'  
'PJ, what are you on about?'  
He didn't reply, just turned to look out of the window. Blurs of green trees flew past, his head hurt and his heart hurt and his throat was sore and he just wasn't having a good day.


	9. viii

The days passed quickly and soon **Daniel** decided it was time to head back into the city. He waved goodbye to the blue house and the charming little village that he used to call home.  
'Good bye, love,' the kind face of his mother said, waving fondly to him.  
He shot her a smile and climbed into the taxi.  
The train ride was long but peaceful, Daniel listened to convivial music and stared out of the window, admiring the blue sky and the green fields as they flew past.  
He arrived in London with a new found sense of mirthful optimism. He walked back to his flat, taking the long route just so he could go past the park. He admired the view of the serene grassy landscape among the tall buildings of the city. In one of the benches sat a messy head of hair and a red t-shirt reading a book.  
Daniel continued on his walk, smiling at the sun and the birds flying above his head.  
He opened the door to his flat and immediately frowned. The rooms looked so sad and dark, so full of sorrow and regret. The paint was peeling off the walls, the sofa looked faded and colourless and the windows were cracked and small, not letting enough light in to illuminate the flat. The bathroom was browned at the edges, the tiles looking exhausted and the tap barely working.  
He felt that the whole flat was bringing his mood down and decided to leave, needing an escape from the dark prison of the discoloured rooms.

 **Christopher** didn't see the tired, messy boy for days after the 'I just passed out' incident. He pretended not to mind but in reality, he was going to the park every day on purpose to 'accidentally' bump into him again and constantly looking up from his book to see if he had suddenly appeared.  
Today, instead of the usual Chris saw someone he didn't think he'd ever see again. A brown fringe and a blue sweater walked past him happily, both of which were prominent features in his brain, attributes of a certain boy he hadn't seen in a while. He honestly did want to go greet Daniel, but his head was filled with doubt whether he even remembered him let alone wanted to talk to him after the occurrences in the past months. He pulled his book up over his face to cover it, hoping the brown haired boy across the green expanse of grass didn't notice him.

 **PJ** had been majorly torn up about what happened with his old friend. He felt so bad that he had been so unresponsive and loopy. The girl didn't let him leave the house after the encounter, strangely enough, saying that she thought it was 'best for him not to mix with random strangers on the street again'. PJ really didn't feel like quarrelling with her so kept quiet, but was truthfully cunningly scheming.  
More than a couple nights into his forced house arrest, he came to a conclusion. He packed a bag with his only clean shirts, trousers and his toothbrush. He then found a car key laying on his desk and placed that on top of the bag. He drank a small glass of water, making sure he was in best spirits for the next day, before getting into bed and having the best sleep possible.


	10. ix

**Daniel** spent most of the day outside of his flat, only coming back as late as he could so that he could take up the least amount of his day in those confining rooms. As soon as he arrived, he walked straight to his bed and slept and once morning came, he got out of the apartment as fast as he could.  
As he walked down the road to go get a coffee from a nearby café, he remembered the figure he had seen the day before. He reached to his pocked and picked out his phone, dialled the number and was bluntly rejected by a computerised voice on the other end telling him to leave a message.  
'Chris, it's me, Dan. It's been so long, man. I hope you're ok and stuff,' he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, realising he hadn't prepared for this and didn't really have anything to say, 'I'm in London if you're around, I really want to see you. Actually, it would be great to crash at your place for a couple nights. My flat's slowly deteriorated into a dump and it's too upsetting to go in there. Just, um, call me back when you get a chance. Cheers.'

 **Christopher** listened to that message, and the three others from the same number afterwards.  
He smiled at the thought of Daniel coming over to stay with him for a bit, it would be one of the first social experiences he'd had in a while, not including PJ, his strange girl-friend or a barista. He decided to text him, not wanting to call because it made everything seem to real for him.  
'Hey, Dan,' he typed, 'that would be so great! Seriously, come over anytime. We have lots of catching up to do.'  
Almost instantly, a message pinged back with the words 'is now a good time? I'm not doing anything all day.'  
This delighted Chris, who immediately wrote a reply and sent it, making his way back to his apartment to meet his friend there.

 **PJ** woke up early, veins pumping with adrenaline for what he was about to do next. He grabbed his bag and the keys and walked down the corridor to the kitchen, where he took the wallet neatly placed on the table and an apple from the fruit bowl. He grinned evilly as he opened the door to the gravel path, making a B-line for the car, his gateway out of all of this and into the city.  
In actual fact, he wasn't completely thinking straight, but his head had become so clouded since the last time he had seen Chris. He longed to have a proper conversation with him while he wasn't so sedated and he also desperately needed to get out of the house and away from that weird bleached blonde girl.  
He drove over the corner of the grass and onto the road. He continued, making his way down the streets haphazardly but without being noticed because of the madly early hour.  
Miraculously, he made it into London and managed to find a parking space, leaving the car there without paying just to spite the girl who owned it. He knew exactly where he was and exactly how to get to where he wanted to, so he set off, clutching his bag and wallet.


	11. x

**Daniel** met Chris in his flat and the two of them talked for a while, awkwardly at first but then more and more comfortably. Chris explained the torment he had been in and so did Daniel, and the two boys admired the fresh artwork laid out on the floor.  
For a split second, Daniel didn't feel blue anymore. He felt happy, more as a sunny yellow. He felt like summer was coming back, in the form of his mother and in the form of Christopher - two relationships salvaged from the black hole of his recent sadness.  
The only negative thing he felt was the sense that something was missing. Objects around his friend's room had obviously been moved from the last he'd been there, and the both of them were worse put together than before, but there was something lingering in the back of his mind that the moment was seemingly lacking.

The two boys soon found out what had been missing, as **Christopher** reluctantly got up from his seat to answer the doorbell.  
'It's strange, no one really comes 'round here anymore,' he said, looking into the monitor to see who was at the door. His breath caught in his throat and his eyes widened.  
'Who is it?' Daniel asked.

' **PJ** ,' Chris said, shocked, as he hesitantly pulled his hand from by his side to press the button. A buzz emitted from the machine and the boy at the door smiled and walked inside the building.  
Daniel was shocked, he never expected to see Christopher and PJ in a room together ever again. It was all he didn't want and also all he ever really wanted.  
The door to the apartment was knocked and then opened, affirming Chris' earlier statement. There he was, PJ looking dazed yet more alert than the last time he'd seen Chris.  
'I thought I'd never see any of you again,' came the words, spilling off PJ's haggard tongue like water, 'especially not in the same room.'  
And in that moment, all three boys really believed that miracles really _do_ exist.


	12. xi

**Daniel** and the two other boys slept in the living room that night, exhausted from the long day they'd had. An empty coffee cup sat on the table and a pair of shoes sat by the door. The white curtains wafted in the wind, the floorboards creaked calmly as a person in the hallway made their way up the stairs, the world was at peace.  
Once morning came, Daniel woke up and opened his eyes to see the sun streaming through the window. He looked around the room, PJ was still asleep and Chris was sitting, hunched over himself, on a chair.

 **Christopher** looked up and realised Dan was staring at him.  
'Good mor-' he began before being interrupted by the loud ringing of a phone in PJ's pocket. He rolled his eyes. 'It's been happening all morning.'  
The two of the awake boys decided to go get coffee, leaving a note for PJ in case he awoke while they were away.  
'It's that girl, I know it is,' Chris said, almost as if it was talking to himself, as they walked down the street.  
'What is? Which girl?' Daniel questioned.  
'PJ's calls, they're from his evil girlfriend.'  
'PJ has a girlfriend?' Dan said, surprised.  
Chris just grunted and pushed the door to the cafe open.

 **PJ** was startled awake up by the tenth ring of his phone, opening his eyes to an empty apartment and a note.  
'Gone to get coffee, will be back soon,' he read.  
Sighing, he pulled the still ringing phone out of his jean pocket and read a number he didn't recognise. He pressed the screen, letting the call come in. Immediately, a high pitched and angry voice came loudly through the speaker.  
'PJ? Where are you? What did you do with my ca-'  
He ended the call and blocked the number, mumbling a quiet 'oops'.  
A couple minutes later, both Chris and Dan walked through the door carrying cups.  
'It was her, she called,' PJ said.  
'What did you do?' Asked Chris, slightly annoyed.  
'I blocked the number.'  
Chris smiled.  
A few hours and a few records later, PJ's phone began ringing again. All three boys groaned.  
'I wish we could just smash that stupid phone,' Daniel said, exasperated.  
'What if we did?' PJ suggested, a malicious grin encompassing his face.


	13. xii

**Daniel** laughed as he watched PJ, extremely frustrated, attempt to smash his phone screen by standing on it with socks on.  
'That's never gonna work, you're crazy,' Chris mocked him.  
'Just watch me,' PJ said, panting from this sudden exert of energy. He then stopped, as if having an idea, and started to make for the door.  
'Where are you going?'  
'Out.'  
'You forgot your shoes,' Dan said very matter-a-factly, 'and us.'  
After putting his shoes on hurriedly, PJ stomped out of the door with the two others in close pursuit. Oddly enough, he started upstairs.

'We're not allowed up here,' **Christopher** reminded PJ, who was now standing on the edge of the platformon top of the building, staring down at the street beneath.  
'What are you doing, Peej?' Daniel asked.  
The phone suddenly jumped into life with a call and, all at once, PJ took it in his hand and threw it, hard.  
'Oh my god.'  
'Did you just.'  
'Yes I did just, I just threw my phone off a roof across London to god knows where,' PJ pointed out, a large smile plastered on his face, 'and it felt fucking great!'  
'That was actually pretty badass,' Dan said.  
'Who wants some pizza to celebrate?' Chris asked, trying to coax the two others back downstairs.

 **PJ** felt amazing with slice of pizza in hand and a sense of pride in his heart.  
'A toast: to getting rid of toxic people,' he raised his glass of Ribena in the air, 'also the greatest cockblock of the century.' Their glasses clinked and a laugh was shared.  
The phone was a symbol, it meant so much more than just a phone. It meant a page turned, a new chapter in PJ's life. A different time without blonde hair and high voices and without being stuck in the same room for weeks at a time. Old friends became new friends, his old life became new.  
PJ was free.


	14. xiii

**Daniel** fell asleep first, head comfortably leaning on some pillows and arms rapped around a blanket. The two other boys sat next to him, conversing in hushed voices.  
'I'm so glad we met again,' Chris said and smiled in a senseless and delighted way which made PJ smile with him, 'I missed you a lot.'  
They both stayed like that, smiling and staring at each other's beaming and goofy grins.  
'I don't know if it's me or the Ribena talking,' PJ broke the comfortable silence with his quiet yet strong voice, 'but you're really pretty.'

 **Christopher** and the other boy finally fell asleep much later that night, side by side with their fingers laced together. Their chests rose and fell just as the curtains swung back and forth due to the light spring breeze and the night quickly passed.  
Morning came just as planned, and usurped the day with a brilliant sunrise painted with pastel pinks and purples and, most noticeably, red. This was Chris' day, even though he didn't know it yet.

 **PJ** approached the former not so soon after all three boys had awoken.  
'Chris, we saw-' he stopped for a moment, not sure how to say the words, '-the bathroom.'  
Chris sighed, having half-forgotten about the horrors of the bathroom until now.  
'It's a mess, Chris. We need to do something about it,' Dan interjected, 'it's upsetting.'  
The boys sat in an uncomfortable silence for a while. Chris rubbed his temples and sighed again.  
'I vote we go to the shops and get some heavy duty cleaner and get that shit cleaned up,' PJ said abruptly, interrupting the silence for the second time since last night, 'we'll make it smell nice too. It'll be great.'  
Dan put his arm around Chris' shoulder comfortingly and spoke. 'You ok with that, bud?'  
Chris shook with a sob and sniffled, trying his best to hold back tears.  
'You guys are the kindest friends anyone could ever ask for.'


	15. xiv

**Daniel** led the two others out of the door and down the street and all three of them were standing outside the supermarket within the next 10 minutes. They marched in like warriors looking for their next kill, except they weren't looking for their next kill they were looking for heavy duty cleaner. Eventually, the boys did find what they were looking for and walked out of the store holding bags and bags of it.  
PJ and Dan reentered the flat, their faces a mask of resolute, and set to work on the bathroom.

 **Christopher** hesitated, not wanting to go in the room because of its grimy state and the memories he still associated with it. He stayed right outside of the door, pacing up and down the corridor as the smell of soap wafted from the cracks in the doorframe. His hands shook slightly with anxiety and each footstep he made correlated to a loud rhythm of shoe hitting wood, shoe hitting wood, shoe hitting wood.

 **PJ** broke that rhythm eventually, however, as he opened the door and strolled out, a satisfied grin on his face.  
'Come look,' he said, motioning to the bathroom.  
Chris did so, anxiously inching towards the door until he was finally faced with a sight he wasn't expecting. In the bathroom sat Dan holding a brush, scraping the last blood stain from the side of the bathtub. Apart from that, the room was spotless and the sink looked shinier than it had done when he first bought it. His hands cupped his open mouth as he gasped.  
'You guys really-? Thank you!' He spurted out before pulling PJ into a giant, thankful bear hug. Dan joined in, dropping the brush and making his way over to join the huddle of affection.  
Chris' worries, at least the ones regarding the memories of that bathroom, were long gone, diffusing out of the bathroom through the little window, just like the faint smell of air freshener that drifted outside. This was his enlightenment, his page turned, his new chapter reached. He was ready for the future, no longer dreading it. He knew that now, with the help of his kind-natured best friends, that he was going to not only survive but thrive.  
Christopher was free.


	16. xv

A couple days later, **Daniel** 's day came. It was sunny, the sky was lit with the saffron sun and the clouds milled around, making shapes of ducks and smiley faces and leaves.  
The three boys were sitting, rather illegally, on the roof of the apartments again staring up at these clouds and pondering.  
'Dan,' PJ said, turning to face him, 'why haven't we been back to your place yet?'  
Dan's muscles tensed and he stayed completely silent, staring up at a cloud he couldn't quite determine the shape of.  
'Dan?' Chris questioned.  
'I just don't want to go there, ok?' he snapped, stopping the other two in their tracks.

 **Christopher** was relatively worried by this, wondering why his friend refused to go back to his home and what made him lash out like that. The boys sat silently, awkward side glances being shared.  
'Why not?' came PJ's calm voice.  
Hearing his friends tranquil tone relaxed Dan a little and he replied, less agitated this time.  
'Reminds me too much of-' he hesitated, 'him.'  
Chris reached out and grabbed the sad boy's hand, looking into his eyes comfortingly.  
'How about we go back there, all three of us? We'll clean it up a little bit: maybe repaint the walls or just change the sheets. Whatever you're comfortable with. We need to fix this, though. You can't stay terrified of walking through that doorway, that's not what _he'd_ want you to be. Plus, I need to repay you for helping me out with the bathroom.'  
Dan didn't reply with words, just nodded cautiously while staring at his hand wrapped around the other boy's.

 **PJ** and company arrived at the stark white door to the apartment complex and Dan timidly handed him the key. They walked in, pushing some of the newsletters that had been posted through the letterbox out of their way. They walked up the stairs to Daniel's floor, noticing how quiet and eerie the corridors and other flats looked. They arrived at the door and Dan handed over the second key. The door was opened to reveal the dark, desolate and incredibly blue apartment. The rooms looked exactly like they had before; the paint was peeling off the walls and the furniture looked colourless. The tiles of the bathroom were grimy and cracking while the windows were equally as broken and imprisoning. It was simply sad to look at.  
'Dan, why do you like blue so much?' PJ asked as he finished tying up a full trash bag that should have been taken out a few weeks prior.  
'Phil,' was Dan's simple reply.  
'Why did you only make half of the bed?' Chris asked, staring at the entity of the bedroom in disbelief of its contrast of being incredibly neat on one side but not the other.  
'Phil,' Dan reiterated.


	17. xvi

For the second time that week, **Daniel** and the other boys found themselves in the supplies store, trudging around in the search for paint and some more cleaning things.  
'I don't want to repaint the flat,' Dan protested as they stood in front of the immense colour wheel of the store, 'it's fine how it is.'  
'It's not fine, Dan,' Chris stated, looking his friend in the eye, 'it's saddening.'  
Dan replied with a frown as a woman in a green apron and a name tag approached their group. She asked what they were looking for.  
'We're painting an apartment and we're trying to decide on a colour,' PJ informed her.  
'I'm thinking blue,' Dan said, trying to get his point across, 'I mean it's already blue. Do we really need to paint it again?'  
Chris shook his head, exasperated by Dan's stubbornness but upset by how much he really didn't want to change the room.  
'The colour purple is very popular at the moment,' the woman said, pointing to a lilac on the colour wheel, 'it's very similar to blue.'  
'I want the complete opposite of that. I hate purple!' Dan almost yelled, more angrily than he had intended.  
PJ almost laughed, really not impressed by Dan's childishness in this situation. He felt almost embarrassed in front of the store worker as if he was a parent with a boy having a temper tantrum.  
'Well if you look at the wheel, the complete opposite would technically be yellow, if that's what you mean,' the woman said.  
Chris smiled and locked eyes with PJ as they both nodded, _perfect._  
'That's nice, yellow is such a warm and happy colour. Isn't that right, Dan?' PJ spoke, putting his hand on his companion's shoulder to try to convince him. Dan didn't reply, just shrugged.  
'I think we've decided,' Chris said, turning to the woman.  
Over the next five or so minutes, Chris and her discussed tones and lighting and other strange things relating to paint until they had finally decided on an exact shade.

 **Chris** paid for the paint and the other things they'd bought and soon they were on their way, Dan still sulking and dragging his heels down the pavement. They finally arrived at the desolate flat, ready to get to work.  
'I really don't think this is such a good idea,' Dan stated, trying to get the attention of the other two as they carried a piece of furniture out of the first room they were going to paint.  
'Do you want to go take a walk, Dan? We can do all this and you can just go relax, I don't want you worrying about it,' PJ suggested, putting the table down in the hallway.  
Dan followed his instruction and was soon en route for the park, or the coffee shop, or really anywhere, his vision blurred by tears. He fought them back as he continued walking, reminding himself that it's all for the best.

 **PJ** and Chris took this opportunity to really get to work and soon all but a couple of the blue rooms were glossed over with a new, sunny yellow. The flat was filled with the chemical scent of paint. They then descended on the bathroom, brushes and soaps in hand. The gritty tiles were soon sparkling and white, as with the shower and sink. The kitchen was next, the trash cleared out of the fridge and off of the counters. The bedroom was left to last as it was the most difficult job. The two took care of the walls and then went through the cupboards.  
'There are so many clothes,' PJ remarked.  
'And we all know who they belong to,' Chris replied, picking up a shirt and folding it neatly.  
'What are we gonna do with all of it?'  
'We're not getting rid of it,' Chris said, 'that would be too horrible. We'll confront him about it once the flat's done and the paint's try. Make them look nice and leave them in the front room.'


	18. xvii

**Daniel** stumbled into the flat much later and was met with an odd view. The flat was transformed: the light bulbs had been changed, the carpet had been cleaned, there was no longer trash covering the floor, and, most noticeably, the walls were now a pleasant yellow colour which still glinted in the sun light. He gasped slightly, so surprised by the new look of the place.  
His two friends walked into the room, motioning for him to follow then down the hallway and into the other rooms of the apartment. He did, a dazed and blank expression masking his face. He really didn't know how to feel.  
'Look, Dan,' Chris said joyously, pointing into the clean and not-so-depressing bathroom.  
After Dan's absence of a reply, they took him into the bedroom, showing the bed they'd dismantled so as to get to the walls. Dan's most fell open, as if to gasp but also as if to scream. And that's what he did; he screamed.  
'You, you ruined it!' he spat, turning to confront them, 'I had it left so perfectly, the way he had left it! It was fine the way it was, why did you do this?'  
The pair looked at each other, stunned by Dan's emotional response. He continued.  
'You don't understand! You just don't! I left it like that for a reason! That's how Phil wanted it! You've made a mess and he won't be here to help me clean it up.' He made his way over to the dresser where the drawers sat, empty. 'You emptied them? How dare you! What did you do with his clothes?' Dan was practically crying now, screaming the words as they rolled off his tongue irrationally. Hot tears trickled down his face as he grabbed the handle of a drawer and flung it back so that it flew out of the dresser and hit the floor behind him. He continued to do so for most of the other drawers until there was only a couple left, then turning around and looking at the horrified faces of his two friends and the mess of broken wood on the newly clean floors.  
This is when he snapped and the gravity of the situation and what he'd done smacked him in the face; he sunk to his knees, letting the tears flood his face and just sitting there, shaking.  
'I'm so-' he choked out, 'I'm so sorry.'  
PJ and Chris dashed over to his side and sat at his level, attempting to get him to calm down.  
'Shhhhh, it's ok.'  
'It's gonna be fine, Dan, try to calm yourself down.'  
'Just try to breathe.'  
'Dan, can you hear me?'  
'Dan?'

 **Christopher** looked into PJ's eyes, horrified, as Dan slumped onto the floor, eyes half lidded. He had stopped crying, but was now lying, lifeless, in front of them.  
'Fuck,' PJ said, springing up from his seat and jumping over the broken wood to reach Dan's phone. He pressed the three numbers into the keypad and was met with a calm voice on the other end of the line.  
'Hello, 999 what's your emergency?'  
'My friend- he's just collapsed in front of us. We need help, we need an ambulance!' PJ yelled down the phone as he caught sight of Chris in his peripheral vision, attempting to get a response from their unconscious friend.  
The person on the phone asked for an address and he obliged hurriedly, they promised there would be an ambulance on the way as soon as possible. He passed the phone to Chris and gave him a nod as the person listed some things that were essential to keep doing before the ambulance arrived.  
'Try to talk to him, keep him with us' were the last words PJ heard before he whizzed out of the room, out of the flat, down the stairs, out of the building.  
The ambulance arrived merely 5 or so minutes later and two or three people jumped out of the front seat holding first aid bags and some other things. PJ led them upstairs and they found Dan and got to work, both of the two boys walking out of the room to get a small break.  
'We really messed up,' Chris said, rubbing his temples.  
'We tried to do our best, though.'  
'I'm just so worried about Dan.'  
'This isn't the first time he's passed out because of hysterics. He's gonna be ok, I promise,' PJ said as he reached for the other's hand, grasping it warmly. The two shared a glance and then faced towards the room to return to the madness.  
Inside the dismantled bedroom, three nurses knelt by Dan's side, performing numerous procedures on the unconscious boy. Eventually, a loud gasp was audible and then the loud sound of heavy breathing filled the room. Dan sat up, his face glistening with sweat and tears and his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Both **PJ** and Chris sighed in relief, moving slowly towards the cluster of medics on the floor of the room.  
'Is he ok?' Chris asked, looking at one of the girls.  
'He'll be fine. He passed out from hysterics, right?' she said, holding her hand on Dan's wrist to check his pulse.  
'Yeah, he was really worried about something.'  
'Ok, sounds good. He's still a bit shaken up, is it ok if we give him some weak sedative to calm his nerves for the time being?'  
Chris raised his eyebrows and nodded, wanting the best for his friend who still sat bolt upright, breathing unevenly. The girl reached for something in a bag and pulled out a syringe, gesturing to her coworkers as she punctured Dan's skin with the needle.  
PJ looked at Chris as if to say 'is this a good idea?'. Chris shrugged.  
Soon, the nurses were done and packed up.  
'You were right to call us, he's lucky to have friends like you guys,' the girl said and PJ laughed at the irony of the statement, 'he'll be a bit loopy because of the sedative for a while. It's ok, it'll wear off after a bit. If anything happens and you think he's having an allergic reaction or anything else goes wrong, don't hesitate to call us again.'  
Chris mumbled a quiet 'thanks' and the group left, dragging their medical equipment behind them.


	19. xviii

**Daniel** sat in a strange state, half asleep but still very much awake. His eyes were opened wide, trying to focus on the room as his hands clenched and relaxed in a rhythmic fashion. Chris walked over to him; he spoke in a calm voice.  
'Hey Dan, you feeling ok?' He asked, trying to ascertain whether his friend was able to respond or even comprehend what was happening.  
Dan didn't quite reply in the way he had liked, merely with the mixture of a hum or grunt. The noise seemed to be positive, however, so the two breathed out heavily with relief.  
They stood by his side until Dan started to look around the room with more purpose. Finally, he breathed out abruptly and sat up completely straight.  
'Chris, PJ, I,' he hesitated, stringing the words together, 'I'm sorry.'

 **Christopher** looked at the other and nodded, accepting the apology and hoping for the future that Dan would come to like the change.  
The group sat in silence for a moment or two, while the previously unconscious boy made his way back into full consciousness.  
'When I was,' he said, 'not here - in my head,' a pause, 'I saw him. I saw Phil and he said - I'm not sure if he really said it, but -' another pause, Dan's hand came up to his face to wipe away a tear forming, 'he said I have to move on. He said I have to stop worrying about him and continue living. He said I have to stop being the blue boy.'

'He was the blue boy, Dan, you have to be someone different.' **PJ** spoke poetically and with confidence.  
'Throughout our relationship, I've been living in his shadow. Even after his death. I've been so obsessed with Phil and the idea of Phil that it's been so hard to grasp the fact that he's not here anymore.'  
'But you need to, it's for the best.'  
The no-longer-blue boy nodded, considering the fact that this apartment change was for the best. He breathed in deeply, smelling the scent of wet paint. Dan smiled.  
Dan had realised the thing keeping him down, the one thing that had been controlling him for all these months: he wasn't able to accept death and the fact that Phil was gone. Now he understood, and he could continue his life, obviously remembering his late boyfriend, but while still enjoying it and realising that Phil's end was not his own.  
He was turning the page, just like the other two had, and, while still remembering the chapters beforehand, was able to start a new one.  
Daniel was free.


	20. a paintbrush, a bathroom, and a telephone

_Daniel now realised that he didn't need anyone to be himself._  
 _He wasn't blue, or red, or green, or purple - he was yellow._  
 _He was bright, sunny and happy and he was strong to go through grief and come out of it better off._  
 _The only thing thing that had been holding him back: the colour of a paintbrush._  
 _His friends helped him paint over his past, willing him to let the future come and history be left behind._  
He wasn't alone.

 _Christopher now realised that he was surrounded by so many great and supportive people._  
 _He was happy with who he was and now thought of himself as a beautiful sunset, burning with passion and love._  
 _The only thing that had been holding him back: the confines of a bathroom._  
 _His friends helped him escape that personal hell, willing him out into the world._  
He wasn't alone.

 _PJ now realised that he didn't need an escape anymore, and that coffee tasted much less bitter than alcohol._  
 _He had grown like a tree, away from his addiction and away from the prison of his dark bedroom._  
 _The only thing that had been holding him back: a girl's voice on a telephone._  
 _His friends helped him get rid of her, willing him to escape from his own head as well._  
He wasn't alone.

_Philip was still no longer around, but the memories of him were much less daunting and much sweeter._

_And around the world, other people did the same things._  
 _A purple boy walked out of his parents' house, bag on his back in the dead of night, ready to escape from their closed mindedness and go on to live a life by himself and away from their constant torment._  
 _An orange girl approached the cashier in a shop, ready to face her fear of confrontation to ask a question, head filled with determination._  
 _A pink boy walked up to another boy and got down on one knee, holding out a ring and looking up with wishful eyes._  
They weren't alone.

No one is truly alone.


	21. epilogue

Dan stood up, holding his cue cards with one hand and a spoon in the other. He lightly tapped against the champagne flute and it made a chime, causing the rest of the room to fix their eyes on him as he stood up, adjusting his suit.   
'I'd just like to say a few words, ladies and gentlemen,' he said, smiling as he looked down at his two friends sat next to him, 'since I am the best man and all. I'd like to share a few stories with all of you about our beloved grooms right here, I'll try to keep all the embarrassing ones out, though.' The crowd laughed pleasantly in response. 'Although I could just start telling you all about that time Chris got really drunk all the way back when we were eighteen and-'  
He was cut off by Chris grabbing the cue cards from Dan's hands and throwing them off the table so that they scattered all over the floor, earning a hearty roar of laughter from the crowd.   
'No, no, I wouldn't do that to you,' Dan jested, looking down and the giggling Chris, 'plus, now I can't really say anything since you've ruined my speech,' another laugh filled the room, 'well then, I'll have to keep it short and sweet since I don't really know what I'm saying. I just wanted to talk about how these two boys are my dearest friends, and have been for the most part of my life. Both Chris and PJ have pretty much always been there for me, including my and their darkest times. They helped me find my identity after my boyfriend,' Dan stopped to sniff and turned to the couple, evidently starting to cry, 'passed and I am so thankful for that. I honestly don't know what I'd do without you two, you've both been my rock always, and hopefully forever more. I can't be happier for you about the marriage; it's always been a goal of mine to marry my best friend, but really the best thing in the world is watching your best friends marry each other.' An 'aww' emitted from the crowd. 'I can't actually believe this really is happening, I can still remember almost last year when PJ told me he was going to propose, I thought he'd gone mad. But seeing you two that night after he'd asked you, so in love and so ready for the wedding, I knew you were perfect for each other.'  
Now all three of the boys were crying, and Chris planted a large kiss on his husband's forehead.   
'That's all I really have to say. Now, a toast,' he raised his glass, 'to infinite love between best friends, to a romance envied by the gods, to the couple not missing me too much on their honeymoon.'  
The satisfying clink of glasses echoed throughout the large room along with another collection of laughter and Dan sat back down, taking a sip of his champagne and smiling widely as a tear fell down his cheek.


End file.
